


Yarn Over Bananas

by Melusine0811



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine0811/pseuds/Melusine0811
Summary: Rose has perfected a new craft.This is in response to the prompt on Fangirlia by Tenroseforeverandever.Pure crack. Could conceivably become part of my "Dream of Atlas"  'verse.Also part of the DoctorRosePrompts' 31 Days of Ficmas from 2019.Comments make me happy :)
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 22
Kudos: 36
Collections: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019





	Yarn Over Bananas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TenRoseForeverandever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/gifts), [Aintfraidanoghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aintfraidanoghosts/gifts).



A tiny, inconspicuous Santa hat atop a white, sock-shaped, cylindrical piece of carefully-crocheted cloth. Seems harmless.

Could go atop one’s Christmas tree. Could add a festive touch to the top of a wine or champagne bottle. Could conceivably warm one’s nose, even. However, the two round, fuzzy nooks at the base of the cylinder don’t leave much to the imagination as to the true purpose of this novelty object--- if Rose could actually _find_ it. 

Pregnancy brain hasn’t been kind, and her gag gift for the Doctor has somehow disappeared without a trace. No matter, as her focus is currently on making _another_ baby hat- this one happens to be Buzz Lightyear to match the baby’s space-themed nursery and wardrobe.

Since learning to crochet, Rose finds that it’s become a bit of an obsession. As irrational, maybe, and uncharacteristic for her as this rather “domestic” activity might be, she has taken to it like a Slitheen to farting……….she is _GOOD_ at it. 

_“Chain 2 at the beginning of each round. Beginning chain counts as a stitch....”_

Which is understandable, when her time spent perfecting it is taken into account. She’s been watching endless videos online about perfecting stitches and using the correct tension, and she’s also buying crochet books en masse. _The Ultimate Crochet Bible_ constantly lies open on the table, with detailed notes scribbled inside.

From the texture and weight of the yarn to the finish of the hooks, she finds herself fixated on pretty much everything about it.

_“Fasten off purple, fasten on white. Chain 1 at the beginning of this round. Chain counts as a stitch. Slip stitch to first stitch at the end of this round.”_

Single crochet, double crochet, half-double crochet, gauge, counting stitches, down to selecting your favourite hook type. (Rose prefers tapered to the weird in-line hooks because she is not a _MONSTER_.)

She’s become rather fluent in it--- it’s not enough that she stalks Ravelry like a fangirl stalks Tumblr, she’s actually been _dreaming_ about it. Never being one to engross herself in this sort of “feminine” behaviour, she is positively _eating it up_.

Over eight months pregnant and due in January, and on mandatory maternity leave from UNIT (thanks to the Doctor and Pete), there isn’t much to keep her occupied these days other than knocking about the flat (well... waddling) and watching mindless daytime telly.

There are, of course, plenty of things that those “other” mums and mums-to-be do. There’s an endless stream of mum groups to join--- the ones where women drone on and on about who’s hosting playgroup, whose husband is shagging to the Mummy-and-Me yoga instructor, who’s pregnant now, who lost their mucus plug and what colour it was, what’s going on on _Eastenders_ and _Desperate Housewives_ , what brand of nappy has chemicals in it, and who is providing snacks for baby storytime at the library. If Rose is honest with herself, she’d rather socialise with Cassandra the bitchy trampoline or even The Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe, because at least they were _interesting._

Travelling in Time and Space for more than two years, and then subsequently working for a top-secret organisation protecting the Earth from alien invasion does make one have a particular taste in activities, if not rather _antisocial._ All of this is appropriately represented by whose child she is carrying--- a human-Time Lord hybrid from the planet Gallifrey, even though it’s much more complicated than that in reality.

Put bluntly, monotony is not exactly her style.

And of course, since the new TARDIS can now hop short distances, the Doctor insists on taking her anytime he goes in to UNIT, just so that Rose doesn’t have the temptation to tinker and wind up stuck on the Isle of Mull so close to delivery, where she could potentially jump in time a few years, really throwing a wrench in things.

The honest truth is that a couple months ago, she had been getting a little stir-crazy, so one day she had wandered into a bookshop after meeting the Doctor for lunch and found a crochet book in the bargain bin. Thinking “why not” to herself had led to something that has allowed her to open her imagination.

As someone who has never had a creative outlet, nor has she had any reason to believe that she was any good at anything besides melting Daleks and catching Weevils, she is reveling in what she has created. 

She has even made friends. After posting patterns she has created, she has accumulated a small following--- even been invited to a group of incredibly talented crocheters on social media. The response to her own work has completely humbled her, in all reality.

Creating things for her family has also been incredibly fulfilling: hat for mum, check. Hat for Tony, complete with dinosaur spikes, check. Mittens for Pete, check. Hats for the baby, check. Booties for the baby, check. Blankets for the baby, check. Toys for the baby including crocheted sonic screwdriver, check.

But…. she has as of yet to make a single thing for the Doctor.

 _Until_ someone in her crocheters group had shared that fuzzy Santa…...sock....hat…..thing.

A man of simplicity to the last when it comes to fashion, the Doctor is rather difficult to make anything for. The long scarf days passed centuries ago, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in a hat that could potentially mess up his perfect spikes, so Rose had found herself at a loss.

Now if she could only _find_ the bloody thing.

In the middle of the 4th round totalling 40 half-double crochet stitches, Rose remains completely unimpressed by the fact that the young TARDIS is landing directly next to her in its designated spot between the table and the sofa, and on instinct she shifts her large body, reaches her foot up, flawlessly hooking it over the top of the table to keep the pieces of paper from her pattern from blowing about.

She doesn’t miss a single stitch. 

The door opens and the Doctor steps out, but Rose doesn’t even look up.

“You know, you could text me before you come home, that way I don’t have to practise my yoga skills to keep things from blowing everywhere.”

“Yes, but where is the excitement in all that? And I _love_ your yoga skills.” He waggles his eyebrows but she doesn’t notice.

“You still need to make an entrance, love. Some things never change.”

She smiles warmly but still doesn’t look up, yarning over again and again.

He kisses her head.

“Another hat?”

“It’s _BUZZ_! It matches his other stuff.”

“Rose, honestly, this baby already has more hats than I ever did.”

“I find that hard to believe. I was in that wardrobe multiple times.” 

She finally puts down her work, satisfied that she has produced more stitches in the last half hour than her crochet friends online. She types her total into the chat box, somehow manages to get herself onto her feet, and waddles over to greet him.

She brings him as close as she can, considering her substantial girth, but he still manages to bring his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, stroking his hands over her face, and connecting with her and the baby telepathically. Still managing to produce the wobbly-knee effect on him, she has to hold him up a bit and change the subject, lest they end up in the bedroom (of which she is still proudly capable).

“So....how was your day?” 

“Not bad. The Apoxo was sent safely home, soil samples and all. And I managed to get the circuits fitted in my new sonic. Shouldn’t be long now. Oh! Rose! And I loved my present! I forgot to tell you thank you. I loved the Santa hat on it…..very festive way to hide one’s very important things.”

Rose’s mouth drops. “Your….present?”

He takes his lunch box out of his bag.

“I ate one, but couldn’t eat the second.”

Rose is left speechless this time, if not moderately disturbed at what his next revelation could be.

He brings out the small crocheted object in question, with a _banana_ tucked snugly inside it.

“My Christmas banana holder! Rose, you’re a genius. Keeps my lunch banana nice and safe! And there are two little pouches for chestnuts! Can I have another? Ooh! Make a TARDIS blue one!”

Rose laughs so hard she blows her mucus plug.


End file.
